


High

by Aya_A_Anderson



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Wingfic, angel au, temporarily:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aya_A_Anderson/pseuds/Aya_A_Anderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise Ryouta comes into his inheritance, and it involves more pain and erotic dreaming than he would like. At least the two are mutually exclusive. knbss2014</p>
            </blockquote>





	High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [altonen.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=altonen.tumblr.com).



> KNB SS 2014 for Amena (altone.tumblr.com).

The pain had come, sharp and trembling, on the morning of Kise’s sixteenth birthday. There was no outward sign of causation; though Kise lifted his shirt in front of the mirror every night for weeks past, sixteen and one fifty-second, sixteen and two, running his fingers across his back and shoulders, gingerly pressing the pads of his fingers into the epicentre of pain below the blades of his shoulders, he felt nothing but skin stretched tightly across muscle and bone; his mother took him to the doctor’s office to confirm what she already knew, that all signs were invisible and would be until at least four months later, when Kise’s wings would break through the fine membrane sac, all torn and bloody like his sisters’ before him.

It was a natural part of growing up, she said, stroking his bright gold hair. There were lines around her eyes, her lips, but as he grew he could view with more and more clarity the shining halo hung bright around her head, her pale brown wings folded tightly at her slim back. She too was growing older – though she should not die for another thirty, forty years – and when she did die, she would most certainly go to heaven, as would her husband – her consort – her ancestors before her. Kise could model, still, and no one would spot anything out of the ordinary beyond a blinding ethereal quality already made prominent in the slim line of his aquiline nose, long lashes, the curve of his lips, how naturally stunning he was in his expression and happiness, though airheaded. He smiled through the day-on-day ache, played harder and whined more to compensate.

And then there was the other part of growing up. The hazy fuck-dreams became more vivid, more explosive in their false intensity. Slowly, his sisters said, they would solidify into the image of his own consort: someone he would love, and who would attempt to love him back as best a human could. Kise mainly dreamed of boys, of men, dreamed of fucking and being fucked by them, though it was rare that he recognised any of them – Kasamatsu appeared in one, and Kise spent the next fifteen hours panicking that he would be it, before Kasamatsu disappeared the following night and was replaced, perhaps ironically, by a petite, sweet-faced girl. Kise had briefly considered whether Kuroko… as Kise had considered everyone. But Kuroko wasn’t the one, wasn’t quite right.

Kise had done his knee in, in the match, overextended and overstrained. His back throbbed to his heartbeat. Leaning on Kasamatsu for support, flames screaming down his arms as Kasamatsu held him, a pounding in his head as his body tried in vain to heal itself, reacting to the sprain as it reacted to the foreign genome worming its way through his cells, forging wings that shouldn’t be there. Kise could not have felt more human as he stumbled back to the lockers, slumped over the bench, clawing at his sides and back. He blearily makes sure he’s alone. He rips and blows apart into a flurry of white-gold feathers.

They were massive, spectacular, though matted with blood, and Kise started to cry as he touched his – _his_ – wingtips, panting and sobbing and stumbling into the change room showers. Blood washed into the central drain. His sisters’ wings had broken through at night, at home, and they’d both cried out of pain and fear but had been washed by their mother, Kise and his father and once the younger of his sisters waiting anxiously and dazedly in the kitchen for it all to finish, because they really didn’t know what was happening or what indeed to expect; here, Kise was alone and very, very lost, and he couldn’t reach as far back as he wanted to so had to awkwardly angle himself as best he could under the hot spray in the hope it would all wash off. He could move them, but not well, and not to their full extent in the smallish washroom.

“Kise?”

Kise stifled a third sob, and cried out, “Don’t worry!” attempting to be cheerful and falling a bit too flat.

Kasamatsu poked his head into the washroom, saw Kise running his fingers through his hair, and exhaled. “You know. It’s not your fault. You played well and trained hard.”

Kise nodded. He ducked his head further, holding back tears.

“You-” Kasamatsu broke off.

“What?” Kise asked, tentatively. His feathers bristled. Humans weren’t able to see his true nature, and he’d be in deep trouble if Kasamatsu had. It could mean death for him, as it had meant death to his less evolved ancestors who’d shown themselves only in plain sight.

Kasamatsu shook his head, said, “Nothing. I just thought I saw – something.”

“Oh,” says Kise, “Oh, there’s nothing. Just me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes! I’m okay, I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve… Kise, there’s blood on your back, what the hell?”

“It’s nothing! I just slipped, that’s all.”

“Slipped.” Kasamatsu looks incredulous, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Kise nods quickly. His wings move, near-automatically, to shield his naked body from view. They form a curtain around him, pale, shining, sleek as the water ran off them. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Good,” said Kasamatsu. “We thought. Touou’s Aomine asked if you were alright, and if he noticed-”

“Aominecchi asked?”

“It’s not that surprising, I guess. You’re hurt pretty badly. Anyway.”

Kise ducked his head, listening to Kasamatsu’s footsteps padding back out to where the rest of Kaijou must be waiting. “Aominecchi,” he said to himself, over and over again, and sort of wanted to bash his head against a wall because really, Daiki was the worst possible thing that could have happened to him ever.  

He sat silent on the bus ride home, wings comfortably folded twice around. Their tips brushed Kise’s forearms, smoothing along the muscle there, stilling his trembling hands, as if they were conscious and calmer than he was. Kasamatsu even sat with him; Kise sort of appreciated it, and at the very least Kasamatsu’s soft snores took his mind of the burning, pressing, capital Issue that might not even be an issue in the end, and maybe Daiki really was just covertly worried for him.

 Then he fell asleep against the window and Daiki was in his dreams. 


End file.
